This Blog is a collection of both stories and photos of Alicia Moreano's life
My mother was a great lover of books and periodicals. She instilled in us a love of books and other fine things such as art and music. She actively encouraged my adolescent fancy of becoming a writer-though not at the expense of a career as a doctor. (She always felt that there would be ample time to pursue this on the side, as it were. As it turns out, there wasn't.). She was at her finest when on rare occasions she would recite from memory some favorite Spanish language poem. Neruda in particular was one of her favorites. I wish I'd asked her to do it more often and recorded her. Her delivery was truly captivating. Poetry is one of those art forms with like dancing has to be expressed in a physical manner to truly appreciate.
She was forever pressing books on me to read (and it's a habit to which I subject others as my family members know all too well), though I must admit I followed through on very few those. To this day I still have not read The Brothers Karamazov which seemed to top her list. I must have picked up my love for Russian literature from her in some way.
My mother was not particularly forthcoming about much of her past. I grew up with the impression that her life began with her marriage and the arrival of children. She did however relate to me one bit of her personal history. She spoke of her study of literature in college (I still don't know just how far along her education she got) and how she was in love with a young man who was equally enthralled with literature, poetry and writing. Make of this what you will...... Alex Moreano
The following photos were taken when Alicia received a subscription to the London Review from her grandson Keir and granddaughter-in-law Emily. As you can see she took it to heart.
Alicia lived in the Tacoma area from 2012 until her death in 2021. She started out in Independent living which was a real blessing. Here she had a degree of independence that hadn't been available to her past living situations. And she took advantage of so much that was offered to her. She would just take the elevator to the beauty salon, or a book club meetings, community bazaars, interesting lectures, buy aspirin and milk at the mini store, play pool, eat meals, go on field trips, go to church. In her apt she could cook and have visitors. I went to visit quite often. She gave me and many others Spanish lessons. She even made it her mission to visit the assisted living Brookdale next door where she could visit with those who were in need. She would walk right over and later used her walker to get there. And when that was too hard, someone would escort her over. She also made friends and I would say from all the years I knew her, these were her happiest.
Unfortunately when she grew too frail and mentally unstable she headed off to assisted living place that she had visited so many times. Her life grew more challenging and stressful at that point as she was unable to get anywhere without a walker, and became dependent on others for medications and constant reorientation. Her dementia worsened and she was soon off to memory care.
At memory care, life got a bit better for awhile. There she had one great room to be in with 35 other residents. The staff understood what dementia could do to a person and were able to respond to her needs effectively. and lovingly. This is where she spent the remainder of her days. When COVID hit, although we could no longer see her, we were comforted by the fact that she was in a safe and loving environment. During her last days we were all about to be at her bedside.
One of her biggest joys was visiting family and below are a few of our gatherings.
My mother was a great lover of books and periodicals. She instilled in us a love of books and other fine things such as art and music. She actively encouraged my adolescent fancy of becoming a writer-though not at the expense of a career as a doctor. (She always felt that there would be ample time to pursue this on the side, as it were. As it turns out, there wasn't.). She was at her finest when on rare occasions she would recite from memory some favorite Spanish language poem. Neruda in particular was one of her favorites. I wish I'd asked her to do it more often and recorded her. Her delivery was truly captivating. Poetry is one of those art forms with like dancing has to be expressed in a physical manner to truly appreciate.
ReplyDeleteShe was forever pressing books on me to read (and it's a habit to which I subject others as my family members know all too well), though I must admit I followed through on very few those. To this day I still have not read The Brothers Karamazov which seemed to top her list. I must have picked up my love for Russian literature from her in some way.
My mother was not particularly forthcoming about much of her past. I grew up with the impression that her life began with her marriage and the arrival of children. She did however relate to me one bit of her personal history. She spoke of her study of literature in college (I still don't know just how far along her education she got) and how she was in love with a young man who was equally enthralled with literature, poetry and writing. Make of this what you will.